


pass the wine

by powderblew



Series: clear skies and warm nostalgia [10]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, in which kuroo tries to cook dinner and ends up defacing the kitchen instead, reader is female
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 03:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30048957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/powderblew/pseuds/powderblew
Summary: She wonders if she should’ve invested in that cleaning robot. —Kuroo/Reader
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Reader
Series: clear skies and warm nostalgia [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2192649
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	pass the wine

The thing with growing up, is that no one really knows what they’re doing.

Sometimes we’re pretending that we have our life together, that we know exactly what we’re doing and how we’re going to get to whatever destination we’re thinking about. Most of the time, we _don’t_ know what we’re doing because all we can do is what we _think_ we’re _supposed_ to be doing. It gets confusing and the colors blur into one shade after the other, but at the end of the day, all the progress we made is still worth something.

The conclusion to all things hectic, stressful, but wonderful – because money – is that big business sucks the life out of you.

Sure, it’s _nice_ to have money, it’s _nice_ to live in security, and it’s _great_ to have people who depend on you—but sometimes, sometimes she just wants to run away and not look back.

After a tiring shift – it’s not really tiring but hearing her colleagues argue about a color scheme for the new spring collection just gives her goddamn migraine – and another conference about the new launch—for fashion week, she’s effectively ready for a nap.

It’s not like she has really done much besides listen and take notes, but it’s the atmosphere of it all.

So when five o’clock reaches around the bend, she merrily skips out of her office and to her home.

Home, where her sofa and flat-screen tv are.

Home, where her pajamas and takeout await her.

Home, where Kuroo is.

“Tetsurou!” she calls out after unlocking the door and swinging it open, “I’m back—?”

Her voice fades into a strangled squeak, the edges of it raspy as if she’s just been pulled through a cheese grater, and the pit in her throat shrinks to that of a tiny pebble. She drops her bag to the side desk next to the coat rack and stairs on her kitchen floor.

Her kitchen floor has splatters of red.

 _Surely,_ that cannot be blood.

And it’s not blood – she’s watching too many crime shows, she _knows_ – it’s tomato sauce judging from the tin cans next to the garbage bin.

The kitchen counter is dusted with flour, a half-open bottle of oil is dangling at the edge of the sink, the silver prep bowls are piled up in the sink, bags of vegetables scattered all over, and randomly chopped meats sit in a tray. There’s half a block of cheese grated, some stragglers are resting on the _welcome_ mat just near the sink, pressed into her marble countertop, and at the _center_ of the chaos himself, is Kuroo.

Kuro, who is wrestling a blob of what looks like dough on the center island.

“Tetsu,” her voice sounds both smothered and airy when she calls him out, “What—What are you doing?”

Kuroo pauses mid-slap, the dough sticking to his fist, and then turns his head to look at her. He looks meek for about a half-second, before smiling, “Princess, you’re home.”

“Yeah,” she agrees and looks at the kitchen pointedly, “When did the kitchen explode?”

“I thought I’d make some pizza since you’ve been so busy all week,” Kuroo eventually confesses with a sheepish grin, “I kind of underestimated how…many ingredients and work it would take.”

She grins, stupidly, but then shakes her head because she’s not _supposed_ to be happy about the mess in her kitchen. Even if Kuroo wants to make her melt into that puddle of tomato sauce right next to the pot cupboard. She cleans up the footprint next to the stove with a washrag and asks, “And the tomato footprint?”

“…the can wouldn’t open,” his ears tint red, and turns to look back at his dough.

“Uh-huh,” she teases him lightly and puts the rest of the vegetables back into the refrigerator, “You know we have a mixer, right? All we have to do is switch attachments and the machine can knead the dough.”

“Princess,” Kuroo sighs all exasperated and chidingly, “This is going to be a _hand-tossed_ pizza.”

“Tetsu,” she begins with the same mock patronizing tone he just gave her and puts her hands on her hips, “ _Hand-tossed_ means thin crust, not literally _hand-tossed_.”

“I may also be working out my arms,” he rolls his eyes and raises a brow, “Now, stop ruining my fun.”

“I must _critique_ your form Tetsu, how else will I ignore the flour sticking to your hair?” she replies with glittering eyes and mirth lacing her tone.

“There’s flour in my hair?!”

She snickers, raises on her tip-toe to lightly dust his wild, dark hair and his shoulders. He has flour _everywhere,_ it seems. Then she takes the half-grated block of cheese and starts to grate from the only clear side of the counter.

“Ah-Ah,” Kuroo makes a noise of displeasure, he releases the sticky dough to wipe his hands with the nearby towel and walks over to her frowning form, “No helping. You go sit down and let your boyfriend take care of you.”

“Tetsu—”

“Nope,” he says firmly and ushers to a nearby seat, “I’m putting my foot down on this one. Tonight is about you, so just relax and let me do all the work.”

She glances around at the chaos in her kitchen in mild distress.

“I even got a bottle of wine,” Kuroo brings out a bottle of wine from the cupboard and two glasses. He pops open the bottle and pours her a glass, “Now sit, relax, tell me what your crack-pot boss did today and—”

He brings his head down to show her his last thought rather than explain it. He kisses her slow and sweet. His teeth just barely grazing her bottom lip, fingers grasping the sides of her jaw and he hums when she tries to chase the feeling. He grins against her mouth, “That’s better.”

She kisses him again, “Yeah,” a moment passes before she finishes, “Please don’t destroy my kitchen.”

Kuroo deadpans.

She dodges his playful bite and sips her wine; when she glances back at her tomato-stained floor she’s reminded that she’s going to have buy that stupid self-cleaning robot one of these days.

**Author's Note:**

> pls drop a comment on your way out <3  
> catch me on [tumblr](https://sleepysonia.tumblr.com)


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